


Red Ledger

by dondrapers_pen



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: F/M, Kidnapping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-05-28 23:18:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6349723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dondrapers_pen/pseuds/dondrapers_pen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Hell's Kitchen, the streets are lined with crime and blood. Frank Castle is the man that enforces this-Matt Murdock is the one that contains it. It's only when you're dragged into this that things may change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You Can't be Him

“Damn it, Foggy!” Yelled Matt as his fist flailed into the car door, hopelessly and predictably leaving a dent in the silver impala. Never had Foggy heard Matt lash out like this, but he could remember a time when he screamed at Matt until he saw Matt tremble and cast his head down shamefully. 

“Matt, you can not do this right now. You can’t be Matt right now…You have to be….him,” said Foggy, who looked to be struggling with the subject. 

The matter was not up for discussion as Foggy reluctantly opened the door for Matt in the passenger seat. Matt fell in quite slowly, his head coming to lean back on the head rest with his chest heaving up and down. Foggy hastily ran to the driver’s seat, hands coming to rest on the wheel. 

“Play the voicemail again, please,” demanded Matt who was searching for a breather. He seemed to be muttering under his breath about something- something about that damn Frank Castle. 

The phone was given to them by delivery. A man with no face, stripped of all flesh on his face, precisely, held the phone in his hands when Matt had found him near his and Foggy’s firm. It seemed Castle knew exactly where he was and where he’d find him. Matt must have listened to that minute and a half long voicemail at least twice now. He could not get the screams out of his head, no matter how much he would close his eyes and block out the rest of the world. Foggy’s thumb hit the play button, and the static erupted once more. 

“Hey, Red. You’ve kept me waiting far too long now,” said a distinctly deep voice. There were tinges of jubilee in the man’s voice. A chuckle was suppressed in his words, he seemed to want to keep himself sophisticated to Matt.

“Remember when I shot you in the god damn head? Me too. You know, sometimes I ask myself. No, not sometimes— always. I always ask myself, why won’t this son of a bitch just die? You just keep getting right back up.”

Foggy looked to Matt who was obviously struggling to maintain himself. He was shaking with boiling rage, his eyes were glassy. 

“But you know who I don’t think is gonna get back up when I’m through with them?” 

Both Matt and Foggy moved their heads away, Foggy closed his eyes tight while Matt clenched his teeth together and tightly wrapped his hand around his cane. 

“This doll of your’s we’ve got here.”

Crying. Crying was all they could hear. It was pained, pleading, trembling, and suppressed. Her choppy breathing was enough to make Matt let those tears fall freely. Now that they were in the silence of their car, all Matt could hear were those strained cries for help. It angered him more to hear Castle shushing you, making you scream out in pain even more. 

“Now you’ve got some elasticity to you, Red. But I don’t think our sweetheart over here does.”

Foggy heard a slight pathetic noise erupt from Matt and when he turned to see his best friend, he nearly felt like breaking down himself. The thought of you in the hands of a psychotic killer was all too overwhelming for the two of them. 

“Shut the hell up, doll. You’re wasting your energy. I want him to see you still alive. That is if he ever shows up. Do you think he’ll show?” The question was plaguing Matt’s mind. It was, of course, the most logical route- save you and finally put away Castle. But there was the lingering possibility of losing himself completely- what he would do to Frank. Upon thinking of the subject, he heard a sudden shuffling and now (y/n)’s voice was as clear as day, curdling and something along the lines of “please” or “Matt” was said in her pain-induced scream. There was grunting, clangs of metal, and nothing else was heard but her sobs against the phone. 

“You know, I asked you once to kill me, let a man live. And you couldn’t even fucking do that. Wonder how that’ll work out with your accomplice here.” 

There was a hardened and strained crack on the other line. More shuffling to fill the car that Matt and Foggy were in. Things were only made worse when Frank’s breathing turned heavy, and the sound of a gun being loaded filled their ears. 

“Hurry up, Red.”


	2. Prettier With the Mask Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank will stop at nothing to bring down the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, even being so ruthless and callous to take away the woman Matt has always loved in front of his very own eyes.

Tracing along your cheekbone with his delicate fingers, Matt felt euphoria circulate throughout his entire body. The tenderness of your skin against his own felt sensational and calming in a sense. A smile erupted in the midst of this, to the point where Matt could hardly contain it. You were still sleeping as he could sense by your unperturbed heartbeat against his chest. He enjoyed feeling your breath on his bare chest and the way your fingers would curl underneath him. If only it could always be like this. 

Even the nights where you could barely stand, Matt found it obnoxiously hard not to chuckle when you would pass out right next to him as soon as you fell into the luxurious bed. This crime fighting business had taken a toll on you, quite quickly as you had been thrown in to it. Although you were worn out about half the time during your average and customary work day, you barely had time to yourself upon coming home from your job. 

Matt tried desperately and ridiculously hard to picture serene moments with you, to take away from the idea that you were, in that very moment, being brutalized by a man who had no limits. He remembered crossing paths with him, on numerous occasions. He knew exactly how and why he went after you instead of him personally. It was all a misunderstanding- you, a woman of strength and gentleness, not a murderer. Matt knew you. You’d never do something like this. 

And it was so hard to carry himself up the numerous and winding stairs up to his apartment, with the weight of what would happen to you if he didn’t haul ass up the stairs. Those screams were ingrained in his head, no matter how much he’d close his eyes and clench his teeth. Foggy, in his best and reluctant efforts to help Matt, managed to pick the lock of Matt’s apartment and barge in, helping him search for that suit. That goddamned suit. 

He shook himself in to it, feeling the hard material against his skin. With nimble yet firm movements, he took the helmet that managed to turn him into someone completely different. Sensing Foggy’s disapproval, he turned to him, eyes glassy and clouded with something along the lines of regret. He heard Foggy sigh and pace in one particular space. 

“Look, Matt…I care…a great deal of what you do, but most importantly- what it does to you. But if you kill him tonight…if you get her back-“

“And I will,” Matt says almost rigidly and stiffly. 

“Then I will be okay with that. Just please…just get (Y/N) back.”

 

Matt sensed the increase of crime from the quiet rooftops. This city would always be the same, despite both the aid of Elektra and you. Though you had the same morality as Matt and had a tendency to become a bit more violent than you wanted to be, he could never see you becoming like Elektra or even Frank, someone with no boundaries. This ideal plagued his mind, wondering why Castle went after you and not him personally. Frank never attacked someone unless they were truly guilty- that was the case most of the time unless the devil of Hell’s Kitchen had anything to do with it. 

It was quite easy to locate your whereabouts. Frank made it in his best efforts to confront Matt as quickly as possible, and made your location quite easy to find. Truth be told, Frank never wanted to do this- but after what you did, after what the devil did, someone had to pay. 

Managing to enter through the unsurprisingly easily accessible roof access, Matt followed the noises of distress down the winding stairs. He silently prayed to himself as he wandered down the hallway, where the sound of a dead lightbulb sparked lifelessly in the air above him. 

The room in which you and Frank were in was a dark and poorly lit one. Not even the bright moonlight would support. You lay on the floor, hands broken and tied behind your back. Quite honestly, you were glad Matt couldn’t see you, not in this way- in some weak and battered down way. Your skull was most likely cracked in some shape, and blood covered almost every inch of your face. Frank was no stranger to a knife and just where to puncture you just right that would result in the most painful of screams. 

“Red,” Frank chuckled, and rested his metal bat on the table beside him, “heh…took you long enough!” 

A pained moan escaped your cracked and bleeding lips. Matt could hear your struggled and tight breaths that sounded choppy against the metal ground. 

“Please, Frank. Let her go. This is about you and me,” Matt pleaded. When you looked up to see him, there was nothing but a trembling lip, shaking fists, and a hesitant voice. The lump in his throat was becoming larger by the minute as he heard Frank’s foot come in contact with your back. A small crack was heard at this sudden push. 

“This what you came for? What about me, champ?”

“You don’t attack innocent people, Frank. You know that. She’s innocent, she’s just trying to help this city.”   
“Help it? How could she help it when she works for you? How can she help it,” Frank crouched down quickly and drove the tip of the gun against your temple. You were shaking now, more than before- but you would not cry. 

“How can she help it when she’s stealing from me? When she’s sabotaging and helping the man who did this to me?”

“It’s not true!” You screeched against the floor. 

“Shut up, damn it! You don’t ever shut up, do you, huh? She’s far from innocent, Red. I know she’s working for that damn gang.”

Matt’s lips parted ever so slightly, trying to find some explanation to justify your actions. You couldn’t be working for them- you wouldn’t have had time. You were always with him. Damn it, you lived and slept with the man. Matt wouldn’t believe it. 

“Caught her last night sneaking into that damn bar-“

“No,” you groaned out, “no, I don’t work for them! I-it was a set-up, I swear.”

“Set-up, she says. You believe this, Red?” Frank looked down at you, with your lips trembling and all. There was a gash the size of a rabbit in your side and your leg was surely broken, knee cracked and bleeding.  
“She’s a lot prettier with the mask off, huh?” 

Matt’s blood was boiling and before he would even think (something he tended not to do most of the time), he ran at full force with his baton, swinging at Frank. The man dodged but a few hits, but with Matt full of rage, Frank was able to get him at his most vulnerable. Those burning, horrific sounds of you screaming and crying were all he could think about— and how he was about to kill Frank Castle. 

There was quite a loud blow when Frank was pushed against the balcony by Matt, whose teeth were gritted and whose muscles were shaking. Frank’s gun was pressed against Matt’s chest, his other one just below him. If he could, he would outsmart him, but he wasn’t thinking clearly. Matt’s heightened hearing picked up on your speeding heart beat and your low coughs against the hard and cold floor. 

Frank was far from being through with the vigilante. A shot rang out, and judging by your screams of utter shock, it was very close to hitting you. The distraction allowed for Frank to hit him. He hit him so hard that he felt blood drip from his lips, he felt the breath fall from him. How could he have let himself fall so easily? 

“Don’t,” Matt heard you whisper. The gun was pinned against Matt’s back so quickly he could feel Frank’s driving hand

“Who to choose…Who to choose,” Frank said pensively. His tongue clicked, staring down at your shivering form. At least three of your fingers were broken as you tried, to itch for an escape, to which your efforts were proven futile. 

“Well, Red, I think we should just get rid of the problem here first, don’t ya think?”


End file.
